Poem of the Week

She sat upon the floor 

By Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev

She sat upon the floor 
Looking through a pile of letters, 
She took them up and tossed them 
Like so many cold ashes. 
She took the familiar pages 
And gazed at them strangely, 
The way souls look from above 
At their discarded bodies . . . 
O, how much life was in them, 
Life irrevocably lived! 
O, how many bitter moments, 
How much love and joy now dead! . . . 
I stood silently aside 
Ready to fall on my knees, 
And I grew terribly sad, 
As if in the presence of a dear ghost.

About smkelly8

writer, teacher, movie lover, traveler, reader
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